Lucky scrolled down the bureau’s fallen agent page. If he died today, what good had he done, selflessly, for someone else, expecting nothing in return?
Not a thing, regardless of what Richmond “Lucky” Lucklighter’s online obituary said about dying in the line of duty while protecting a fellow agent. Now came a chance to do something good for his family. No one had to know. But if his sister wasn’t a match, who said Lucky would be?
Bastard Bristol probably matched perfectly. And the sorry sonofabitch was unwilling to give up a chunk of liver to save their old man’s life. Heh. For once in his life, Lucky got to be something other than the black sheep of the family. Pretty weird. Not like him at all.
He closed the memorial page went back to his internet surfing.
Each reference to “liver transplant surgery” and “living donor” confused him more and more with all the doctor talk. And damn, get a load of the possible side effects. He didn’t even realize he’d been squeezing the life out of a pencil until it snapped.
“Hey! You okay?” Bo traipsed into their shared cubicle, took the broken pencil pieces from Lucky’s hand, and tossed them in the trash.
Anybody else, and Lucky would have either growled or grinned and said, “Fuck, yeah!” Bo saw through his lies. “I’m not sure.” He slammed his laptop closed on a way-too-graphic surgery picture.
Bo sat down and rolled his chair over to face Lucky, taking Lucky’s hands into his own. “You’re driving yourself crazy. If you have doubts, maybe you should listen to yourself.”
“But if I don’t do it, my dad could die. Why do I have to be his only chance?” What had Dad done to end up with this life resting in Lucky’s unreliable-as-all-shit hands?
“I hate watching you beating yourself up like this.”
“I’m not—”
Bo lowered his chin and raised one eyebrow.
“Okay. Maybe a little.” Or a lot. “What if I get tested and I’m not a match? Then what?”
Bo put his nose inches away from Lucky’s. “I’ll go with you. Get tested too.”
All those possible side effects? Did Bo truly know what he offered? “You don’t have to do that. He’smydad.”
“Yes, he’s your dad. Which makes him important to me. Because you are.” Bo dropped a kiss on Lucky’s nose.
Just when it hadn’t seemed possible to love the guy more. The warmth in Lucky’s chest wasn’t all due to heartburn from too much coffee. “You’d do that for me?”
Bo squeezed Lucky’s hands. “Don’t you know by now I’d do anything for you? I’ll have to tell the doctors about Stephan Mangiardi’s magic elixir and the time I spent in rehab for hydrocodone dependence. But if they’ll let me donate, and I’m a match, I’ll help.”
Not many people wandered by Lucky’s cube without being court ordered. They’d learned to avoid the resident ill-tempered sonofabitch about his second week on the job. And the old timers warned the newbies.
Still, there came a time when a man had to do what a man had to do, no matter who might happen by. Lucky wrapped a hand around the back of Bo’s head and yanked him into a whole-hearted, can-feel-it-clear-down-to-my-toes-gotta-do-it-now-or-die kiss.
And he didn’t jerk away once their lips touched. When Bo couldn’t possibly get any better, he got better.
Bo pulled away first. “Call Charlotte and get instructions.”
Charlotte.Call Charlotte. Seemed so weird after all this time to pick up the phone and call, but right now Lucky couldn’t rightly remember why he’d avoided talking to her in the first place.
She answered on the first ring. “Hello? Richie?”
Oh yeah. A whole lot of hurt and shame from a million broken promises. He’d sworn to always be there for her. Yet in her worst moments, he’d been somewhere else, breaking a few dozen laws.
“Richie?”
“Oh, hey, Charlotte. I was… um… wondering…” Lucky shrugged and sought help from Bo, who might not have suddenly lost the connection between brain and mouth.
“…wondering what you have to do to find out if you’re an eligible donor,” Bo said quietly enough for Lucky to repeat the phrase to Charlotte and make the words sound like his. Sort of.
Charlotte’s gloomy tone brightened. “I’ll e-mail you all the details. And Richie?”
“Yeah?”
